For Better or Worse (26 page)

Chapter Thirty-One

I
CAN
'
T BELIEVE YOU
didn't tell me,” Sue Tanner said for the hundredth time, her eyes watering as she reached for his hand. Also for the hundredth time.

“I did tell you, Mom. The second after I hung up the phone with Dr. Rios.”

His mom shook her head. “That's not what I meant,” she whispered.

Josh squeezed her fingers. Hard. “I know.”

Knew that his mom wasn't talking about the most recent sickness—knew that she was referring to the not-so-unlikely possibility that the leukemia could come back. Sue bowed her head, and Josh's father put a hand on his wife's shaking shoulder as she cried, as he met his son's eyes. His dad's brown eyes were shiny with unshed tears, and Josh had to look away as his heart twisted. It was like he was in a time machine. A shitty one.

Four years ago he'd been in this exact position. Lying in a hospital bed while his parents tried desperately not to cry in front of him, succeeding only about half the time.

Just like he tried not to cry in front of them. He'd succeeded 100 percent of the time, although he suspected it might be harder this go-around.

This was everything he hadn't wanted. Everything he'd hoped to avoid.

And yet, he couldn't not tell them. Not when his doctor had suggested he come in right away. There were some secrets one could keep to protect his family and others that would destroy them.

Josh was pretty sure that not telling your parents that you were in the hospital waiting for results on a bone marrow biopsy and blood workup fell into the latter category.

“How much longer?” his mom asked, taking the tissue her husband handed her and dabbing angrily at her eyes.

“Doc said they'd rush it,” Josh said. “Given my history.”

“And you knew,” Sue said accusingly. “You knew that there was a strong likelihood that your particular leukemia was at risk for a relapse.”

“Remission is never a sure bet, Ma. For anyone.”

“You let us think it was,” Sue said, her voice cracking once more. “You let us think you were healed.”

“Because I
was
healed. What good would it have done to have you two in a constant state of worrying?”

“We do that anyway,” Rob Tanner said wearily. “But . . . I get why you did what you did, son.” He put his hand briefly on Josh's shin beneath the thin, ugly blue blanket, and Josh nodded once in gratitude.

His mother glared up accusingly at his father.
“You can't seriously think he was right to keep it from us.”

“You meddle enough as it is, Sue. Given what he's been through, can you blame him for wanting a bit of peace and quiet? To be someone other than the sick kid?”

His mother's head dropped slightly, defeated. “No.” She turned to Josh and offered him a weak, watery half smile. “I suppose I can't begrudge you that, sweetie.”

“There's always the chance that it's nothing,” Josh said. “Dr. Rios said it could just be a virus.”

His mom forced a smile. His dad looked away.

Josh couldn't blame them. None of them believed it was just a virus.

“Can we get you anything?” his dad asked. “Book? Magazine? Food?”

Josh shook his head. He couldn't eat. And though the medicine they'd given him had taken the edge off the pain, he didn't want to read, either. Unhealthy as he knew it was, he just wanted to sit and try not to think about the news that awaited him.

Try not to think about Heather and what she would think when she got back to her apartment and he wasn't there. She'd knock on his apartment door, and he wouldn't be there, either. She'd call, but . . .

“Hey, have you seen my phone?” he asked.

“With your stuff,” his mom said, gesturing to the corner of the room. “You want?”

“Nah.”

He didn't want the outside world right now. Couldn't handle it.

“Your sister's on her way,” his dad said, glancing at his own phone.

Josh stifled a groan. “Seriously? I told her not to come. The baby shouldn't be in the hospital.”

“Josie next door is watching Marian,” Sue said, patting his arm. “She has five grandkids of her own; she's perfectly competent with infants.” His sister and Kevin had flown up with the baby for Christmas, and Jamie had opted to stay through the New Year so that his parents could help with childcare and get their grandbaby fix.

“She's still flying out tomorrow, right?” Josh asked.

His parents exchanged a glance, and he read their silent communication perfectly. It depended on the test results.

“No, I don't want—”
Fuck
. Josh put both hands over his face. “I can't do this again. I can't put you all through this again.”

“Don't be selfish,” his father said, in a tone Josh hadn't heard since he got caught with a six-pack of Buds when he was eighteen. Josh dropped his hands and found his dad giving him a stern look. “You think this is about you, and it is, but it's also about the people who care about you. The people who want—need—to be here for you. Because we love you.”

Father and son held gazes for several moments, but Josh was the first to look away. His dad was right, of course. If situations were reversed, and any of them were in a hospital bed, there'd be no dragging
him out of the building. He'd hop on a plane, train, or unicorn to make it to any one of them, Kevin included, if they were sick.

“You're going to be fine,” Sue said as Josh stared blindly at the ceiling and tried to ignore the burn in his throat, the lethargy in his body.

“Can I have a few minutes?” he said, looking back at them. “I'm not asking you to leave, I just . . . I need a moment.”

“Of course,” Rob said, even as his mother start­ed to protest. “We'll be in the waiting room if you need us. And if the doctor comes back with test results—”

“I'll make sure he finds you,” Josh said.

His parents shuffled to the door, looking older than they had when he'd seen them at Christmas just a week earlier. His mom turned back. “Josh, honey, there's something I should probably—”

His mom never finished her sentence, because there was a blur of dark blond hair and blue sweater dashing by the window of his room before coming to stand in the doorway.

Heather.

Out of breath, beautifully disheveled, and
here
.

His heart leapt in joy even as his brain registered outrage. He glared at his parents, and his mom gave a sheepish smile as she crept around Heather, patting the younger woman on the shoulder.

“That's what I was trying to tell you,” Sue mock-whispered. “I called her while you were getting the tests.”

His mom disappeared before Josh could get good
and properly angry at her, and then he found he wasn't angry at all because Heather was at his side, her face buried in his neck.

A neck that was . . . damp.

Heather was crying.

Motherfucker. Heather was crying. For him.

“Don't,” he pleaded. “Please don't.”

“You asshole,” she muttered against his neck, sniffling, and Josh couldn't help but laugh. She was his same old Heather.

She pulled away and punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Don't laugh at me. How could you not tell me this?” Her eyes flashed even as she swiped at her running nose. “All this time I never knew. Cancer. You had
cancer
?” Her tears seemed to dry and she looked good and pissed. “You don't
keep
something like that from someone that—”

“Someone that what?”

“Cares about you,” she said through gritted teeth.

She wanted to say something else, he could sense it. Even more alarming . . . he wanted to hear it.

Wanted to know if she loved him, even though he didn't deserve it.

“Past tense, 4C,” he said, reaching out and pushing back a strand of hair that had stuck to her wet face. “I
had
cancer.”

“But it might . . . it's back? That's why you're here?”

“They just want to check,” he said. “The symptoms I'm having . . . they're similar to what I had before we found out. They're just playing it safe.”

She nodded. “Okay. Fair enough. But you don't have cancer.”

He smiled grimly. “Heather—”

“You don't,” she said emphatically. “And if you do, then we'll—”

And there it was.

He'd known it was coming eventually, but he'd been putting it off. Living on borrowed time.

But it couldn't go on.

It was time.

“There is no we,” he said, making his voice go sharp. Firm.

Her lips parted. “What do you mean? I—”

He reached for her hand. He wasn't sure if it was possible to couch rejection in kindness, but he had to try. He cared about her too much not to.

“You get it now, don't you, 4C? Why I didn't want a girlfriend?”

“Actually, no. Not at all,” she said.

“Because of this.” He gestured down at this hospital-blanket-covered legs. “Because of this.” He gestured at the machines around him. “This is my reality, Heather, but it doesn't have to be yours. I won't let it be yours.”

She squeezed his hand. “Josh, this could be nothing. It could be the flu—”

“Whether it's cancer this time or later, it'll always be there. The possibility, just looming over us, over any future we might have together. My particular kind of leukemia has a high chance of recurrence.”

She swallowed. “Okay. Okay. Wow. So it's a shitty
lot in life, but that doesn't mean you have to get
rid
of me.”

“I'm doing it for you, 4C. You're one of the most amazing people I've ever met. And you want to get married and have lots of babies. Don't deny it.”

“Of course I won't deny it,” she said with a sad smile. “I do want that.” She took an audible gulp of air and looked him straight in the eyes. “But I want that with you, Josh.”

She might as well have reached over and stabbed him right in the heart, maybe added in a sucker punch to the throat, because Josh suddenly felt faint. “Don't. Heather, please, don't.”

“Don't what? Don't love you? Too late, neighbor. It's been too late for that for a long time now.”

“We said we wouldn't—”

“Fall in love. I know. But I broke the rules, and now you have to decide what you're going to do about it.”

He saw from the familiar cocky smile beginning to shine through her clouded face that she thought she knew what he was going to do with that information.

Heather Fowler loved him.

He lied. He didn't want to hear it.

It nearly broke him.

She was here, holding his hand, even though she knew that their time together might be ripped away by fucking cancer, one of the cruelest of destiny's hands.

“You love me, too,” she pressed on. “Or at least you're close. And I have every intention of sealing the deal, so—”

“Heather. Stop.”

She broke off, pain flickering across her face before she tried to resume her former smile.

He couldn't do this. He wouldn't do this. Not to her.

Josh shook his head slowly. “This thing we've had . . . it's been fun, and it's like I said, you're one of the best girls I've ever known, but—”

“No,” she said quickly. “No buts.”

This time it was he who squeezed her hand, wondering how to push her away and not break her heart. But as he looked at her face, a face he knew nearly as well as his own, he knew that she meant what she said. She loved him. There was no way to do this kindly, so he just had to
do
it.

“I can't take care of you and take care of me,” he said.

“I'm not asking you to take care of me, Josh,” she said, sounding hurt.

Josh winced at her change in tone, but it was too late to go back. “You know what I mean. I've got a rough road ahead, and it'll take all my physical strength just to make it. All my emotional strength is going to go toward helping my family get through it. Helping myself get through this. I won't have anything left to give.”

I won't have anything left to give you.

He left it unsaid, but he saw from the widening of her eyes and the fresh onslaught of tears forming in her green irises that she heard it anyway.

“Can you at least wait until you get the test results?” she asked, her voice so quiet and pleading it
nearly broke him right then and there. “You may not even need to do this whole weird noble thing.”

“Even if the tests come back fine”—
and they won't
—“I'll always be sleeping with one eye open. My life is a solo journey, 4C. I need it to be. For me.”

“But why?”

Because when I die, that sure as hell is going to be a solo journey, too.